


and the universe said I love you

by vrokroa



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cults, Cults are bad kids, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death Watch (Star Wars), Death Watch are Terrorists, Emotional Manipulation, Gaslighting, Gen, I swear, Jango will appear at some point in the future, M/M, Mandalorian Culture (Star Wars), Mandalorian Obi-Wan Kenobi, Memory Loss, No Beta We Die Like Clones, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Obi-Wan does get out of the cult, Obi-Wan infiltrates Death Watch, Obi-Wan is a minor at the beginning of the fic, Stockholm Syndrome, Things will get better, This will get very dark be warned, Underage Drinking, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:06:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27926470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vrokroa/pseuds/vrokroa
Summary: Obi-Wan knew in his mind that what he was doing was wrong, was immoral. He knew that it was a cult and it was their plan for new recruits to submit to their teachings and way of thinking of things. He knew that this persona that he had created wasn’t real and was just his cover in order to infiltrate.No one had warned him that it would make so much sense. That it would feel so right. It couldn’t be that bad could it? Maybe Qui-Gon and Satine were just misled about the motives of Death Watch.They had to be.
Comments: 22
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Quick note before you read any further, please please please read the tags. I’m going to go into very dark topics through this fic and while the tags are incomplete at this time and are subject to change the ones I have right now give an indication about how its going to go. I will put a note at the beginning of each chapter in which specific tags apply to the scenes within and if I change the tags I’ll also mention which ones I’ve changed at the top of that chapters note.
> 
> This is fairly planned out but due to life chapters might be fairly spaced apart from each other depending on how fast I write. Sometimes I might not(by accident) tag something that would be a major trigger, if you come across one of these things and feel it should be added please let me know.
> 
> At the time of this first chapter Obi-Wan is 15 years old.

Qui-Gon hummed, leaning back on the crate he was sat upon. Satine was pacing, her heeled shoes tap, tap, tapping against the floor and echoing out against the walls.

Obi-Wan was sitting on the floor, legs tucked beneath him. It was a small comfort, the cold duracrete of the floor slowly sinking into his limbs. 

"Death Watch… This is a new development." Obi-Wan waited for Qui-Gon to say more, but the man seemed content to leave his thoughts at that.

He turned to look up at Satine, the girl seemed lost in her own thoughts. "What can you tell us about them?" He asked. She grimaced, pausing in her steps to stand before Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon.

"They're a group of radical extremists that separated from Mandalore years ago. Death Watch wants to bring back the old Mandalore when we used to be conquerors. Their ways are barbaric." 

Obi-Wan winced at the imagery, how horrific. He cleared his face before turning to look at the last member of their trio, who had closed his face off in thought. "What are we going to do about them, Master?"

"Give me some time to think about it. I'll come up with a plan."

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan felt as his Master slipped into meditation, his presence in the Force flaring before settling down until it was barely perceivable. He turned to the Duchess, thoughts racing. "Could you tell me more about this Death Watch?"

Satine shook her head and sat down on a crate beside him. Her usual serene expression twisted into sorrow.

"I've told you all that you would need to know."

Obi-Wan couldn't think of anything else to say, looking down instead at his interlaced fingers and wiggling them loose to pick at the dirt trapped beneath his nails. It had been building up, neither he or Satine having time to spare to tend to appearances much to her disgruntlement. It had taken a few weeks for Satine to get over herself and let go of her Core World vainness.

Shaking himself back into the present, he tried to start a conversation with her to pass the time, he even got around to opening his mouth to say something but he paused, closing it and favoring to stay silent. 

He didn't know what to say.

Instead he turned his attention to Qui-Gon, watching the Master meditate with a stillness that Obi-Wan was envious of, the only sign that he was alive was the achingly slow rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed.

Eventually, Obi-Wan saw Qui-Gon start to stir. His presence in the Force resurfacing until it sat just above it, like a raft. The man opened his eyes slowly and caught Obi-Wan's gaze on him, but he only smiled. He let out the breath he had been holding, no reprimand for him today.

"I have a plan." Qui-Gon said slowly, lifting his hands to each other and concealing them within his wide sleeves.

Satine came back to sit on her crate, ankles daintily crossed over and hands clasped in her lap. 

Sighing, Qui-Gon lifted his head to look into the shadows above them, his force presence momentarily becoming turbulent with emotion before he managed to calm it. Obi-Wan had a bad feeling about this.

"We know nothing of this new enemy that has surfaced, their goals regarding Satine or if their gaze is to the larger prize of Mandalore itself. Therefore I propose that Obi-Wan try to get close to Death Watch and gather information."

Obi-Wan froze, fidgeting hands stilling for once.

"You want _me_ to infiltrate Death Watch?"

"Yes." Qui-Gon was so blase about it, like he hadn't just told Obi-Wan that he, a Jedi Padawan, was to try and infiltrate an _extremist_ group just to get some information.

"Are you out of your _mind_?"

“It is the only way." Qui-Gon said. Incensed, Obi-Wan got on to his feet, striding over to where Qui-Gon still sat, serene and calm. 

"You-"

Then, Satine was there, a hand on his chest and a gentle push that got him away from Qui-Gon, untangling his fingers from the Jedi Master's robes. "Obi-Wan, let him explain himself." 

He turned to her, frown on his face and betrayal cooling the fire in his gut. "You're in on this too? You agree with him?"

"Padawan." 

He turned back to Qui-Gon, pulling away from Satine. "Master."

"Calm yourself, you're letting your emotions control your actions."

Obi-Wan inhaled and exhaled slowly, grabbing hold of his tumultuous thoughts before pushing them into the Force, slowly but surely coming back to himself. "Yes, Master."

"I will explain my reasoning to you," The man shifted, getting up from his seat to stand before Obi-Wan, looming over him in that way that he knew was not meant to be malicious but still felt so. "If you will listen."

"Go on." He muttered, inhaling through his nose and letting it out in a soft sigh.

"Satine is automatically out for reasons we don't need to explain."

"Obviously."

"I have been seen acting as a Jedi in Sundari, Keldabe and other smaller outposts. Unfortunately, I didn't think about covering my face like you did when we arrived, which leads us to you." Of course it did, it always did.

"I still think this is a horrible idea, Master."

Qui-Gon continued like Obi-Wan hadn’t said anything at all, moving away from his looming position over him to pace in a tight circle. "As your identity has remained concealed, with only a little help from the New Mandalorians it should be easy to establish a fake identity for you as a dissenting New Mandalorian. Your youth will also serve in our favour."

Did the man not see the obvious flaw in this strategy? One among many things that made him unsuitable for the mission. A very important high stakes mission. "I haven't been trained for this kind of operation, Master, it would be better suited for a Shadow."

"I trust in your capabilities, Padawan. You must trust in the Force, it will keep you true to your path." And what was the Force saying at this very moment? What path was it leading him down that such a venture was necessary? It said nothing at all, remaining as obtuse and ubiquitous as always. There was no guidance to be found there, and if there was... Obi-Wan was not skilled enough to perceive it, another factor which should be taken into consideration. 

He was obviously not suited for this.

"What am I going to be doing if I manage to infiltrate them? Assuming we are going ahead with it, I state for the sake of the argument that I am vehemently against this." He strained his neck to look up at Qui-Gon, cursing his short stature and slow growth leading him to be at a physical disadvantage in terms of diplomatic persuasion.

"Right now we know barely anything about their intentions with the Duchess Kryze beyond their attack on you both. You will work your way up the hierarchy and find out who is leading the operation."

Of course, it was oh so simple. Frowning, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and tilted his head back down to roll them discreetly. He paused as a unbidden thought came to mind,

"This mission is going to take a long time, Master. Are you going to be able to protect the Duchess suitably without me?" He had barely managed it on his own, but perhaps being with an actual Jedi would be better for her. Master Qui-Gon was far more competent than Obi-Wan was.

"Your task will lead to creating an environment which will make it easier to protect her, so yes. I'll be fine, Padawan."

"If you're sure, Master."

Qui-Gon nodded, "You'll need to get rid of everything that could identify you as a Jedi.”

It was no big deal, it was necessary, it wasn't like before, he was a _Jedi_ , he would get his braid back. Qui-Gon tugged on it gently, running his hands over the neat twists and the bands keeping it secure. 

"You will still be my Padawan after this, Obi-Wan. I assure you. Do not be ashamed of your fear, acknowledge it and let it pass you by, releasing it into the Force." Qui-Gon withdrew a small blade from the folds of his tunics. It was unassuming, plain in its craftsmanship, yet deadly with the right application.

"Yes, Master." The vibroblade hummed gently, coming awfully close to his ear. He trusted Qui-Gon to have a steady hand, he didn't fear injury or missteps. He didn't fear _it_ at all.

He didn't. 

It was over before he knew it. Qui-Gon pulled away, knife and braid in hand, leaving Obi-Wan with a sudden feeling of grief. It looked limp and dead in the Jedi’s hand. Was it an omen? He hoped not.

His head was light, so light. Doing his best to not wallow in his emotions, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and let his muscles relax, it was harder to do than usual. "What will my name be?"

"Ben." Obi-Wan looked over at Satine, the Mandalorian stepping back into their small circle of light and sitting down on one of the empty crates.

"Ben?" It was a name they had discussed in their talks together a lifetime ago, to be used if they needed to interact with people while on the run. While they had never had need to use it quite yet, it seemed their preparation fared well in this moment. 

Obi-Wan shuddered at the thought of his Master coming up with his cover identity, too many missions had gone awry due to it.

She nodded. "Ben Kryze." 

Qui-Gon frowned, "Would it not be suspicious for Obi-Wan to take on your clan name?"

"Ever since the Civil War started all the clans have split in loyalty. It wouldn't stand out for a Kryze to be disgruntled with the main family line… Of me." Satine’s emotions betrayed her calm words, grief and that ever present sorrow screaming into the void of the force. He wanted to reach out to offer comfort but knew that it was not the time.

Instead he turned his thoughts to the identity she had offered him, Ben Kryze. He murmured the name under his breath. It sounded off, not quite right, it would take some time to get used to.

"Obi-Wan." The lightsaber. It was time. The fear that he had kept a tight hold of deep deep down resurfaced for a brief moment to spear into his heart. This hurt even more than the braid. He could almost see the memory of before superimposed over the Qui-Gon of now, handing his lightsaber to the Jedi as he left the Order. _Again_.

Obi-Wan couldn't move his gaze away from the hilt. The crystal was singing to him, cheerful in a way that Obi-Wan thought was quite heartless. Did it not feel his grief? His fear?

_Tell me that this is wrong, that we should stop right now._

It was cold in his hands. He looked up from it to look at Qui-Gon and almost began crying at the way it was so easy, the loss of weight on the right side of his head.

He was being erased, a blank page to be replaced with a scribble that vaguely resembled a person. No solid lines to define them. Hands enveloped his, steadying the trembling and pressing down with gentle pressure.

"You are still Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Padawan. No matter what happens, remember that." Qui-Gon’s voice was low and soft, much like his hands. Obi-Wan's tightened on the lightsaber until they were white with tension, was he so weak as to lose who he was without his lightsaber? 

Who was Obi-Wan Kenobi if not a Jedi? 

There was no answer. 

Qui-Gon moved to take the lightsaber from his hands, waiting patiently for him to let go. Just a little longer, he wanted to plead. He was being over dramatic and delaying the mission but he just needed this small moment of comfort. 

He could get through this, he _would_ get through this. Qui-Gon _trusted_ in him.

He just had to trust in the Force.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adding another tag i missed when originally coming up with the tags for this work. As this will be from Obi-Wan’s point of view for most of the story, we will only see his thoughts and observations of the world around him, leading to the use of the Unreliable Narrator tag. Things aren’t all as they seem ;)

Sundari loomed around him. Buildings reaching far up into the air that it could touch clouds… but still far out from the dome that covered the city. The Glass City certainly lived up to its name.

He gathered his coat around him, hunching his neck into the collar and keeping his gaze on the ground as he wandered through the streets.

They hadn't had much opportunity to explore when they had first landed on the planet. Satine’s election had taken up most of their time with the first assassination attempt happening soon after, which had forced them to evacuate. 

The low hum of the speeders overhead was familiar, reminding him painfully of Coruscant and watching out the Temple windows to the city below. Sundari was familiar but at the same time violently _different._ The architecture resembled what he might see in Coruscant lower levels but it had something about it that made it distinctly Mandalorian.

He just couldn't pick it out. Maybe it was the shapes?

Obi-Wan had been wandering the upper levels for near an hour, looking into buildings and stores curiously. He didn't want to admit to himself that he was just delaying the obvious. How was he supposed to find Death Watch amongst all of this? It had seemed simple enough when going over the plan with Qui-Gon and Satine but now that he was actually _here_ it seemed impossible. 

He kept walking, smiling awkwardly at the few stares he received from Mandalorians walking past him.

They could tell that he was an outsider, that he didn't belong. Obi-Wan didn't know if it was his features or his mannerisms but he would have to sort it out rapidly to cement his place here and start looking for Death Watch.

Blinking out of his musings, Obi-Wan found himself at the edge of what looked like some sort of park space, a field of grass cut through with duracrete pavements and interspaced with trees and foliage.

He walked over to a block of some sort of stone which seemed to be used as seating and sat down, pulling his hands out of his pockets to lay on his thighs. He watched people pass through for a while, letting his thoughts wander again but keeping them well away from the despair he knew would creep up at any moment.

He missed Qui-Gon, and Satine, despite the fact that the two could be frustrating at times. It was familiar, not like this.

..

Someone was talking to him. Force, it was so cold.

"Kid?"

Obi-Wan flinched away from the touch, his eyes snapping open to look at the shadowed figure above him.

“Shhhh.” They stepped back and pushed down their hood, revealing a pale skinned human with hair that appeared ashy in the light. They raised their hands in front of them, crouching down to appear in his line of sight. “What are you doing out here?”

Blinking, Obi-Wan did his best to clear away the fogginess left behind by his nap, wincing at the pain in his head. 

“What’s your name?”

He almost, _almost_ , gave the whole game away then, automatically going to say his real name before he stopped and took the time to think; The mission coming to mind, “B-Ben.”

“Okay, Ben, I’m going to get you out of here okay?”

Something warm was put around his shoulders, draping down both front and back. It smelled nice, he noted. The human helped him to his feet, putting an arm gently over his shoulders as he staggered into their side. He couldn’t feel his legs.

“C-cold.”

“You’ve been out here a while, come on, let’s get you warm before you die of hypothermia.” Leaning heavily on them, he shuffled out of the alleyway he had hunkered down in the night before, wane light coming from the sky above. He had slept more than a few hours then. Kriff.

He was led to an unassuming building, another human coming to the entrance as they approached and opening the door to let them through. Obi-Wan shivered, the thick sludgy mess in his head pulsing slowly, had he caught an illness so easily?

“Ben? Are you still with us?” Force, it was so warm. He felt his body go limp completely, arms coming around from behind to gently lead him to the ground. He tried his best to keep track of what was going on around him but it was all just too much.

A face came into view, pale skinned in a way that people here were but it seemed that this person took it to another level, seemingly translucent in the dim light. That was different, there were bright lights before.

“Hello, Ben. May I call you that? Can you do your best to look into this light for me?” Obi-Wan let out a yelp as it shone directly into his eyes, moving side to side with slight movements. “Pupil dilation is good.”

“You’re lucky you weren’t out there longer, otherwise it could have been too late.” The voice was familiar, but he couldn’t place it… Satine?

He just gave a hum in response, clenching his hands into fists and trying his best to warm them up.

Too late, the entire mission could have failed because he was unable to do the bare basics in getting himself a base of operations, Good job Kenobi. He couldn’t help but think that Master Qui-Gon’s trust in him had been misplaced, or that he was under some delusion that Obi-Wan was more skilled than he actually was.

If Qui-Gon had known the true scope of his abilities then he wouldn’t have been let anywhere near a mission as important as this. He was just not suited.

..

He had been taken to what Ursi, the human who had saved him in the alleyway, called a _Gaa’tayl Kai’yam_. A place for those with no home to get food which also doubled as an aid centre. Obi-Wan had to admit that it was probably the most well organised that he had ever encountered, having an atmosphere around it which sung of companionship and community.

He had been bundled up in blankets and led to a discrete booth in the corner of the open room, a bowl of vivid red soup that burned his nose placed in front of him not long after. The cook had laughed at his wince, her aged face crinkling in amusement.

“ _Hetikles.”_ She murmured, leaving to go talk to another table of what appeared to be spacers, but he could have been mistaken. They spoke the same language that the cooks did. _Mando’a_. He didn't know if _Hetikles_ was a descriptor or the name of the meal, he would have to ask later, getting a start on learning _Mando’a_ would probably serve him a long way.

The soup despite burning his nose at first was flavourful, spicy without burning his taste buds off. He didn’t know what kind of meat was within but he liked it a lot, adding body to the broth and sitting well in his stomach. By the end of the meal he had shed a few of the blankets and was constantly the sweat from his face with a napkin, the soup no more than a pleasant warmth throughout his body and low burning in his throat.

“Thank you,” He murmured to Ursi as she sat down opposite him, busying his hands by tidying up the mess he had made of the blankets in his haste to get them off. She just smiled and shrugged, taking a sip of the flask she had removed from her hip.

“It’s no debt, Ben. We are here to help.”

“We?”

She hummed, turning to someone walking past and saying something to them in _Mando’a_ before looking back at him with those eerie eyes. “The war has impacted many, but even the worst of us deserve to have a warm place to sleep and a good meal in their stomach.”

Obi-Wan nodded, it was good to see some compassion left in the Mandalorian people despite all they had gone through.

“What’s your clan name?” Obi-Wan blinked out of his thoughts and looked up at Ursi. She was tall, he noted, scrambling to find an adequate response before it became suspicious. Could he just say Kryze? What if she knew that he wasn’t a Kryze at all and threw him out? Kriff, kriff, kriff.

He coughed, turning his head away to direct it into the crook of his elbow. “Kryze.” It was low and muttered, barely audible above the low hum of the room around them.

Ursi brightened, a smile revealing crooked teeth he hadn’t noticed before. A promising response, Obi-Wan waited with trepidation for the next unfortunate event to put obstacles in his path.

“It’s good to see some Kryze’s kept with the Foundling Creeds. Did they pick you up on _Coruscanta_?” She reached out to grab his hands, impossibly warm compared to his and covered them whole. He nodded, mind blank with panic. “Did something happen to them? You came into Sundari on your own…”

“They… they passed not too long ago.” 

“ _Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni paratayli, gar darasuum.”_ Ursi’s face was solemn as she spoke, the Force and her emotions becoming muted and… he didn’t know how to interpret the rest. 

“What does that mean? The words?”

“They didn’t get around to teaching you?” If possible, she became more sorrowful. Obi-Wan shook his head, hiding his fidgety fingers under the table. He couldn’t believe he had managed to get this far, something was sure to go wrong, right? He tapped the underside of the wood just in case, a habit picked up sometime in his youth that he could never recall the meaning of.

“No… they…” He felt horrible for deceiving Ursi like this, this wonderful compassionate being, but it was for a good cause.

“It’s hard to translate to basic, but it would probably be best interpreted as ‘I’m still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.’ A remembrance rite.”

“It’s beautiful.”

Ursi smiled again, her emotions leveling out again to contentment. “It is.” Love, she held a great love, the intensity of it almost staggering Obi-Wan. “If you stay longer, I might be able to teach you some things, if you are willing?”

“Really? You would do such a thing for me?”

“Of course,” Ursi laughed, a low breathy thing that crinkled her face and revealed her crooked teeth, pointed and sharp. “Kryze have to stay together, and I wouldn’t deprive an _ad’iik_ of their culture.”

“You’re a Kryze too?” He wondered what _ad’iik_ meant.

Ursi reached out with a hand, palm open. Obi-Wan paused, but withdrew one of his own to match, startling when she grasped at his forearm.

“Ursi Kryze, it’s good to meet you, Ben.”

He grasped her forearm in return, smiling when she let out a burst of happiness, it was hard to not be swept up in her excitement. “It’s good to meet you too.”

..

“What do you think? We won't be able to pay you any credits for your work but lodging and clothes are well within our means.”

The room was compact, a bunk tucked into the corner with shelves above, a kitchenette was on the opposite side. Dim, but well kept. Sweeping his eyes across the rest of the room he spotted a door leading to what he assumed was a fresher and beside it a window opening to the street below.

“It’s perfect.”

..

“What's your name?” 

“Ben. Why?”

The boy just peered at him before turning back to his friends and nodding. “Im Njuur. That's Wox, Thun and Ro.” He pointed to each in turn. First a dark haired boy with green eyes, clad in scruffy clothes, a running theme. Next was a girl, Thun, with her hair tied and braided back, falling in a neat tail down her back, she had the same eyes as Wox. Ro was plain, with brown eyes and mousy brown hair, unassuming as someone could be.

“Wanna come with us?” Njuur asked.

Obi-Wan furrowed his brow, doing his best to hide his nerves. “Where to?”

Njuur smirked, dark eyes twinkling. “Somewhere fun.”

Obi-Wan looked back at where he had left Ursi last, his gaze lingering. It couldn’t hurt, taking a few hours to himself. He had missed talking to people his own age, the long months in space with Qui-Gon keeping him away from his creche-mates.

“Okay.”

..

“Ben…”

“I… I didn’t mean to?”

Ursi just sighed, throwing a hand over his shoulder and ignoring the full body flinch he had in response. “Let's get you cleaned up, _di’kut,_ then you can try to convince me that you’re not going out to those underground fights.”

“Yes, Ursi.” Obi-Wan grinned, the motion pulling at his split lip. Ursi sighed again, reaching up to ruffle his hair. He let out a groan of indignation, which made the older Mandalorian laugh.

“Only you, Ben.” She wasn’t disappointed, much to his relief, but more… reflective. She was thinking about something.

“I got some practice with my _Mando’a_?”

She snorted, shaking her head. “Skipping lessons with Masash to go fight isn’t the most productive activity, Ben. No matter how convincing Njuur is.”

“He _is_ very convincing.”

“Brat.” Obi-Wan opened the door to his little apartment and held it open for Ursi to follow behind, the Mandalorian scoffing at the piles of clothes he had left dotted around. _“Ade…”_ she muttered, a smile tugging at her lips. 

“I’ll grab the kit.” Obi-Wan shoved a pile of clothes to the side before heading off to the fresher. He grabbed the first aid kit stashed under the sink and came back out to see Ursi picking up his clothes and folding them into neat piles.

“Sorry for leaving such a mess.”

Ursi waved him off, putting down the shirt she had in hand and held her hand out, waiting for Obi-Wan to put the box in her grasp.

“Bruises? Saw you limping from a mile away, don’t think you’ve hid that side from me.” 

Obi-Wan winced. “My ribs.” She raised an eyebrow at him and he sighed, peeling off his layers before his upper half was bare. Ursi clicked her tongue and poked at the bruises blooming across his rib cage and hips. He squirmed at the touch, gritting his teeth when her finger dug in particularly hard.

“Stop moving or I’ll take all the bacta and leave.” Obi-Wan froze on the spot, pulled apart his hands and kept them forced down at his sides. 

Obi-Wan left the silence to sit for a while, looking up at the ceiling and occasionally jerking as the cold bacta gel was spread across his skin. Ursi tapped his chin gently, prompting him to bring his head back down to let her have a look at his black eye and split lip.

“They’re all better at me at hand-to-hand fighting.” He murmured, doing his best not to lick at the thin bandage holding the cut shut.

Ursi sighed and took a step back, leaning her arms on his shoulders and leaning down until she was at his height. There was an odd look on her face, a mix of determination and resignation. “Then you’ll just need to improve so that they don’t hit you. Or at least learn how to patch yourself up.”

“Yeah…” He couldn’t explain to her that he couldn’t. That it felt wrong to take advantage of his Force-sensitivity and win every fight by a landslide. So he had to take most hits to stay under the radar, to hide the skill that he had no way of explaining away how he had learned.

She smiled nevertheless, emotions warm. “Chin up, I know you’ll be running circles around them soon, just don’t forsake your education for it okay?”

“Hmmn.”

“Good, come, Masash might still be in the _Gaa’tayl Kai’yam._ ”


	3. Chapter 3

“No progress?” 

Qui-Gon was frowning, stroking at his beard with a hand,

“No, Master. Death Watch is elusive, we didn’t expect them to be right out in the open to welcome me with open arms. I will remain patient.”

Obi-Wan watched as Qui-Gon thought through his response, face flickering and fading out of view. In the distance, the clouds swirled with a pale green light.

“Do better, Obi-Wan.”

He bowed his head, letting his eyes drop shut in shame.

“Yes, Master.” 

..

A grunt of pain escaped him as a boot landed firmly into his side, kicking him back a few steps and leaving him hunched over in agony for bare moments. He couldn't stop, he had to keep moving.

He stumbled back just in time for an outstretched hand to miss grabbing at his shirt, Obi-Wan did his best to move out of range so that he could recover. The ring was small, a dark outline of paint that was covered in dirt and faded splatters of blood. There was not much room to do anything at all really. 

He heaved out a breath and pulled himself back up, hands raised in a loose guard. 

Ro said nothing, only pausing a moment before plunging in again, their face blank of emotion. Obi-Wan had to admit that Ro was probably the best of them all, being able to hide their moves until it was too late for the opponent to react. He was envious of their skill. 

Obi-Wan had to stop himself from using the Force to anticipate Ro's moves on countless occasions in order to have even the slightest chance against them. He knew from his first bout against them that despite having almost complete control of their bodily reactions it didn't extend to their projected emotions.

But he couldn’t, he couldn’t do more but hope that his evasion was well-timed enough that he would avoid the most severe of blows.

_ Keep moving, keep moving, don't stop. _

Obi-Wan sat at the edge of the ring, hissing as he hovered his fingers over a gash on his cheek, lifting his fingers to smear the blood left behind with a thumb. He could feel it drip down his face to gather on his jaw. 

He didn’t turn as Njuur crouched beside him, moving his attention to the aching bruises he could feel developing on his torso. It was his careful avoidance of looking at Njuur that led to him noticing something that he hadn’t before.

“What’s that?”

Njuur turned, glancing at Obi-Wan before turning to look at the pool of shadows that vaguely resembled a person, “What? Them? They just like to hang around, sometimes giving us advice on our fights. Probably a  _ verd _ .”

Obi-Wan looked over to them, half-hidden in shadows with their face covered by a fabric wrapping leaving only their eyes visible. They hadn’t moved from their spot, seated at the edge of the pit, for several hours from what Obi-Wan could tell. 

It was strange and definitely suspicious, he would need to keep an eye on it.

Time went on. He continued to watch the stranger over the next few weeks, but more often than not the fights against the other  _ ade  _ (a word he had learned that meant children, the addition of the last letter making it plural from child, simplistic yet fascinating) took up most of his attention.

Obi-Wan knew that he should be focusing on the mission, gathering intelligence on Death Watch and finding a way into their ranks but he didn’t know what more he could do.

_ Do better, Obi-Wan. _ That dream, it wouldn’t leave his mind despite only having a brief recollection of it, he didn’t know if it was just his nerves or a true vision. He hadn’t had any contact with Master Qui-Gon since leaving for Sundari despite his best efforts. Mandalorians while having the capacity for privacy didn’t seem to apply it to the children. Outside the times he snuck away with Njuur he was under almost constant surveillance, either from working at the  _ Gaa’tayl Kai’yam  _ or what he had guessed to be local governmental forces keeping an eye on him.

Obi-Wan shouldn’t be surprised, he basically amounted to being an undocumented refugee under the conditions of his falsified backstory.

Speaking of it, Obi-Wan was glad that his time with Njuur was coming to some use. Having someone around his age to talk to gave him more of an understanding of Mandalorian culture from a less academic viewpoint. It was refreshing. 

“You speak funny.” Obi-Wan turned to his left, where a vaguely familiar kid sat. He had never gotten their name, but he knew them to be a fairly friendly kid with a kick that could put even the heaviest of the combatants onto their  _ shebs _ .

“I suppose I would speak funny to someone who didn’t speak Basic as a native language.”

“Your  _ mando’a _ is strange too.”

Obi-Wan could agree with that. “I’m still learning.”

They nodded, face twisting into what he assumed was a thinking face, it was cute. “‘Suppose… So you’re not from  _ Manda’yaim? _ ”

“I’m from Coruscant, in the Core.”

“Where’s your  _ buir?” _ The sudden change in topic gave him pause, but it only took a moment to get back on track. Buir, the closest thing he had to someone like that was probably Qui-Gon, Force he missed him. 

“They died before I got to Sundari.” It was better to spin the story of Qui-Gon being dead, it was for the best. He had to focus on the mission and not think on what-could-have-beens (He would most likely only pine after his Master looking for attention and someone to whine to about his failures with the mission.)

The kid didn’t seem to pick up on his change in mood. “Oh, it’s good that they got you back home though. I wouldn’t want to be trapped on  _ Coruscanta _ with no  _ Buir,  _ it’s so far away.”

Obi-Wan smiled and nudged his shoulder against the kid, letting out a quiet laugh as they wrapped their arms around his torso. “Yeah, it’s good.”

The kid smiled and let him go, showing their bright grin. They felt so bright in the Force, almost like a star. “What did you do before you were a  _ Mar’ad _ ?” He didn’t know that one. Obi-Wan took a minute to take the word apart. He knew Ad to be the word for a child or a person but Mar was less obvious. Find? 

The Foundling Creeds, of course.

Obi-Wan paused, looking down at the dirt ground and used his finger to shift around some small rocks and dust. He thought back to when he was thirteen before Qui-Gon had taken him in as a Padawan and shivered at the reminder of Bandomeer. The mines he was stuck in for weeks as a slave worker. He shoved the thoughts to the back of his mind before they could become Melida/Daan.

“Speaking about it is painful, little one.”

“I understand.” They looked up at him with wide glossy eyes, a sad smile peeking out from his dirt-stained face, revealing a few missing teeth. Obi-Wan couldn’t be sure if the missing teeth were natural or the result of too many painful blows to the face. But he couldn’t begrudge the kid from wanting to fight, it would be hypocritical.

Obi-Wan was finding it far too difficult himself to resist the rush of endorphins he got while in the ring. Despite losing every match he faced, he could feel his improvement build as time went on.

Before he knew it, it had been two months into his mission to infiltrate Death Watch,  _ Kyr’tsad _ in  _ Mando’a.  _ He had gotten nowhere with it much to his dismay. His days mostly consisted of working at the  _ Gaa’tayl Kai’yam, _ hanging around his friends(He could call them friends now right?) and wandering around Sundari city. Learning, watching, waiting.

Patience would reveal the way. 

..

“What troubles you, Ben?” It was Ler, a regular patron of the  _ Gaa’tayl Kai’yam.  _ Well, semi-regular. From what he had heard from other people he had talked to and Ursi, the man had a habit of disappearing for weeks before reappearing. He had done it twice while Obi-Wan was here and he had just returned from his latest a few days ago.

Obi-Wan quite liked him, Ler was quiet, friendly and was always willing to lend an ear to listen to the problems of the people around him. Many of the Mandalorians were like that actually, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but draw parallels with the Temple back on Coruscant. 

It was all so familiar, yet completely and totally different. Even more now that he was becoming immersed in the community and culture here.

Obi-Wan was homesick. It was something he could not admit to Ler or anyone here really. Ben Kryze wouldn’t feel homesickness other than the fading feelings he had for his  _ buir  _ and homesickness for Coruscant was different from Obi-Wan’s homesickness for the Temple.

He smiled, sliding into the seat beside Ler and taking a sip of the offered drink, just managing to avoid choking visibly at the taste. He hadn’t expected  _ net’ra gal _ . Ler laughed, shoulders hunched as he leaned over the table in an attempt to stifle his guffaws. 

Obi-Wan pushed the drink back, swallowing down his saliva in an attempt to clear his taste buds of the sweet-spicy aftertaste. It wasn’t  _ unpleasant  _ but the alcohol left a bad taste on his tongue. Ler took it back and downed the rest, placing the mug back on the table with a  _ thunk _ .

It took a moment for Obi-Wan to remember that Ler had asked a question and another few more panicked moments for him to recall what the exact question was.

Right, he needed to say something.

“I’m just… lost.” Obi-Wan held himself back from groaning in despair, that was a horrible answer.

“Lost?” Ler frowned and shifted in his seat so that he faced Obi-Wan, “Lost physically or mentally?”

That… was a good question. “Both?” He tried, shrugging. Ler just nodded, giving Obi-Wan a smile and a pat on the shoulder.

“You can talk to me about anything you know,” Ler’s eyes flicked up to look at something across the room, it was Ursi he found upon following his gaze. The woman was sitting at another table listening to a pair of fully armoured Mandalorians. “I know some topics are a bit awkward to talk about with a  _ buir. _ ”

“Thank you for the offer,” Obi-Wan turned back to face Ler, narrowing his eyes when he noticed an odd feeling coming from the man in the Force. He tried to push further into it to find out what the Force was saying but it faded away as soon as paid attention.

Odd. 

“It’s always open to you, Ben. whenever you need it.” Ler looked like he was going to say something further, but they were interrupted by Ursi who seemed to be done with the Mandalorians she had been communing with.

“Ben! How nice to see you come to visit,” She turned to Ler and smiled wryly, “This one hasn’t been giving you trouble has he?”

Ler shook his head and leaned back on his chair, shaggy hair falling into his eyes. “Not at all,” he murmured, eyes trained on Obi-Wan. “We’ve had a good chat.”

Ursi rambled on, sliding into the seat beside Obi-Wan while putting her arm around his shoulder and pulling him in for a hug. He let himself melt into her side, watching the slow coming and going of beings. Occasionally he tuned back into the conversation but was happy just floating underneath it. Ursi was a warm pillow.

All the while, Obi-Wan was hyperaware of Ler’s attention, the man’s gaze always finding its way back to him.


End file.
